


First in My Heart, Second in the Tabloids

by TsarAlek



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Actual sexual content later to come, Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Caspar is a Fashion God, Dirty Thoughts, Falling In Love, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Masturbation, Pining, Semi-Nude Modeling, Vain Sylvain
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:41:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26218078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TsarAlek/pseuds/TsarAlek
Summary: Sylvain is at the top of the Modeling world: swimsuits, suits, underwear, athletics, everyone wants him to model their brands and clothing. After so much hard work to get here, he's more than a little bit vain about his talent and looks but his world slowly begins to tilt with the introduction of an up and coming model: one Caspar Von Bergliez. A joint shoot, a week together, and Sylvain finds himself falling like he never has before for anyone, much less a perceived rival. And he doesn't yet realize just how screwed he truly is.
Relationships: Caspar von Bergliez/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 5
Kudos: 18
Collections: 2020 Ultra Rarepair Big Bang





	1. Pre-Shoot Jitters (Not That Sylvain Gets Them of Course)

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY RAREPAIR BIG BANG DAY! I have had the ultimate pleasure of working with Gladdybug to bring you some Casvain content! It's been long in the making and I hope you enjoy our efforts!  
> [ Link to Gladdybug's amazing Casvain art here!](https://twitter.com/gladdybug/status/1300496323851038721?s=20) Please, please enjoy Caspar's bouncing booty with us.
> 
> The first 3 chapters of this fic are going up today!

_ Q: What is the key to your success?  _

_ A: Well, I like to wake up early every day, get in a workout, make myself a healthy breakfast. I take time off when I need to; something everyone should get in the habit of doing. And I play as much as I work. The modeling business makes it much easier than other professions but everyone should be allowed to play! Otherwise, what point is there in living? _

Sylvain rolled his eyes as he read over his latest interview in the magazine:  _ Fodlan’s Finest.  _

_ What a load. I hardly have time to sneak in a booty call, much less “play.”  _ He thought to himself with a jeer.

_ Q: Why modeling? _

_ A: I’ve just always thought it looked fun, I’m blessed to have fairly nice looks and I decided if I maintained my body, I could pull it off! It’s what I love doing too. And I seem to bring some smiles to the faces of people who see me and my work- that’s a nice bonus. _

Sylvain bounced his feet in place, a nervous habit he picked up when reading these blasted interviews. Always scrutinizing himself, his answers, they had to be perfect.

_ I should have said I had an idol I admired or something. That sounds so fucking fake.  _

In truth, there was an idol he had admired, well... admiration, jerk off to- they were the same thing really. Undoubtedly there were people of all ages and genders jerking it to semi-nude pictures of him now as well. That just meant he had made it.

  
  


_ Q: You’ve won Male Model of the year at our magazine three years in a row now! And you’ve won other modeling awards: tell me- how does that feel? _

_ A: Honestly… it’s surreal every time someone brings it up. I can’t believe I’m here. I did that. I won that. It’s humbling- it’s not at all how I imagined my life would go, but I’m so happy to be here now. _

Sylvain rolled his eyes again. He really, really needed to get out of the habit of reading these things before a shoot. They always made him scrutinize himself which did make him work harder, but he was seriously going to end up with high blood pressure or something.

_ Garbage. I win because I’m the best, I’m the hottest on the market, no one even comes close. _ The follow up question however challenged that thought.

_ Q: How do you feel about last year’s runner up? Caspar Bergleiz has made quite the entrance into the scene- coming in second after only a single year of work! _

_ A: I’m really impressed with him honestly! He has such a good attitude and work ethic. It brings a smile to my face to know there are other people who take this job so seriously and love it so much! I’m rooting for him! _

Sylvain rolled his neck, stretching it out a bit. Images of Caspar’s work flashed through his mind. He couldn’t forget the swimsuit edition Caspar had modelled for- that skintight speedo and gaudy hawaiian shirt opened up to show off his giant pecs and chiseled torso… He couldn’t forget the bright smile on his face and the unnaturally blue hair so perfectly swooped to one side. It was surprising to find out that Caspar had many piercings, he usually left them out for shoots. The sight of his ears adorned with cuffs and the little ring wrapped around his lip had given Sylvain more than a single heart palpitation.

Caspar had done business attire shoots, swimsuits, everyday fashion… he was a jack of all trades- just as Sylvain was. 

Sylvain sighed.

_ Q: Do you think he will pass you up for next year’s first place slot? _

It had taken all of Sylvain’s resolve not to growl at the interviewer and keep a steady smile on his face when asked that.

_ A: I certainly appreciate the challenge he poses! Models always have to be changing, doing new work, keeping fresh! He’s talented, perhaps one day we can even work together! But I don’t intend to give up this spot so easily.  _ He had winked at the interviewer, a cheery- if not annoying- tabloid reporter wearing far too much perfume. She had instantly burst into blush. 

How Sylvain had rued the day he uttered those foolish words. Before the magazine had even been published, his manager told him that he and Caspar were doing a shoot together. Secretly, Sylvain imagined his manager had set it up, publicity, and all that. But it was possible they had simply ended up on the same shoot by chance.

Caspar flashed in his head again… Sylvain put the magazine down and rubbed his eyes. These intrusive thoughts were terribly timed, he and Caspar’s final shoot was in but a few minutes and here he was, horny as a teenager.

Those boyish wide eyes… those arms that lifted him off the ground when they first met and Caspar crushed him in a hug… his legs- more perfect than any trackstar or swimmer Sylvain had ever seen… his chest… Sylvain shook his head and looked down. The tight boxer briefs he was wearing were getting a tad tighter, probably best to think of anyone but Caspar, especially with their shoot starting so soon. 

Or he could rub one out, since Caspar had some mystical allure that frustrated Sylvain to no end.

How could he admit that the first time he saw Caspar’s swimsuit shoot he had gotten immediately hard and been forced to thrust himself on a toy while staring at the blue haired man? How could he admit that he had been instantly enamored with the then-rookie’s work? 

Every day of this joint underwear shoot: all week long, Sylvain had suffered. He was always so close to the other man, and his perfect body… how could he catch lust for his number one rival?

Sylvain winced, there was a definite bulge in his red, skintight boxer briefs. He couldn’t very well take that to the shoot. It was his final shoot with Caspar and after this he would never have the same problem again. 

He stood and grabbed the magazine from his bag: Caspar’s swimsuit shot.

The red boxer briefs fell to the ground- as did his magazine interview. The magazine fell open to the next page of the interview, the interview Sylvain was no longer reading.

_ Q: What do you think about Caspar Bergliez? _

_ A: I like him! I like his attitude! I think he’s a very interesting and attractive model with a whole lot of talent. _

Sylvain came.


	2. Post Shoot Relief (OR NOT?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sylvain and Caspar finish their final shots of their collab together and Sylvain foolishly imagines that will be the end of their aquaintanceship. Caspar has other ideas.

“Yo! Morning Sylvain!” Mr. Bright eyes Von Bergliez called with a gorgeous smile plastered to his handsome face.

Sylvain steeled his nerves, nerves he hadn’t felt since he first started modelling some six years ago at his first shoot. 

“Morning Caspar, how’s it hanging?” Sylvain immediately regretted the words. 

“Oh, good! It’s a bit early for my tastes but I guess the magazine likes my morning groggy look,” he rubbed the back of his head with a nervous little laugh that was too fucking endearing for the early hours and Sylvain’s heart. 

Syvain’s gaze turned away from Caspar. He had to look away, else his eyes remained trained on the bulge in his tight little undies. It was hanging, rather nicely, concealed only barely by the tight boxer briefs. And Sylvain found he was weak willed and pathetic. And his gaze was _definitely_ constantly shifting to look. Gods damn Caspar Von Bergleiz and his looks: hot and groggy, and cute. And Sylvain really really hated Caspar Von Bergliez. 

“You look a bit sleepy yourself Syl! You’re spacing out dude. I wish we could go for a morning swim or something, that would help.”

Sylvain wasn’t spacing out, just staring: just staring at the obscenely well defined pecs of Mr. Sunshine Smile Bergliez. The urge to touch him, to squeeze him was unbearable, it hurt. Sylvain had never fallen for someone so hard since that model of his teenage years. Ranulf… Caspar… blue haired- chiseled perfection, that seemed to be Sylvain’s ultimate vice, his ultimate weakness. 

What would it be like to run his hands over those pecs, to kiss his nipples and swirl his tongue around them… to remove that blasted pair of underwear…

Sylvain felt his face heat up as red as the hair on his head. Heat threatened to spring up in his red boxer briefs too.

“You feeling okay dude?” Caspar placed a firm and caring hand on Sylvain’s shoulder, as if to steady him, though that gentle skin contact only Sylvain feel even more weak in the knees.

Here he was, the mighty and beautiful Sylvain Jose Gautier, felled by the gentle care of Caspar Von Bergliez. 

_Thank the Goddess, the spirits, the everything else divine that today is the final shoot._

If Sylvain had to work one more day with Caspar, one more shoot near those muscles, that body, that intoxicating personality then he was going to die: either of heart attack or embarrassment when he got hard on shoot. 

“Three minutes until shoot!” one of the directors shouted. 

“We should get ready, if you’re feeling okay… that is. Are you okay?” Caspar asked, with worry and care- worry and care Sylvain didn’t deserve.

“Yeah,” he snapped himself out of the lust and attempted to bring himself back to reality. “Let’s go.”

~~~~~

“Alright, first let’s oil them up. We don’t have too many shots left today but they’re the most important ones.”

Sylvain looked away as some of the hands found their way over to start rubbing him down. The baby oil was lightly scented, and cold, though that didn’t bother him; he was fairly used to baby oil by now. Sylvain didn’t dare watch the hands run over Caspar’s torso, it would have only brought him trouble, _more_ trouble. He had jerked it in his dressing room but here he was, as thirsty as he was when a young and closeted bi teenager, eyeing down Caspar, imagining him… Sylvain’s libido had never once been a problem on set until this accursed week next to that accursed man that stood mere feet away from him. 

Yet, it was exhilarating too, every day, after every shoot, he had gotten off, thinking of Caspar, imagining swallowing him down or riding him. He had never felt so on edge. It was as mortifying as it was exciting.

“Alright! Sylvain, I want you to lay down on the ground and tilt your head to the side.” the director bellowed out.

Sylvain obeyed.

“Bring your right arm up and drape it over your eyes, leave your mouth hanging just a bit open. Caspar, go and lay down as well, with your head on his lower torso. Tilt your head and cover your eyes the same.”

Sylvain’s heart skipped a beat, even as he forced it to steady as best he could. He hid his face under his arm, as instructed. He calmed his shallow breathing. His body was electric, just like the blue of Caspar’s hair.

Caspar laid against his chest and obeyed the command. 

Sylvain hoped to whatever gods were out there in the universe that Caspar couldn’t hear the heavy, steady thrum of his hypercharged heartbeat. 

If there was one blessing, it’s that his eyes were covered and he couldn’t see any of Caspar’s beautiful body. 

There were flashes, pictures taken as Caspar lay atop him, both in their underwear, nearly nude, Sylvain dying and glad his hair was red to hide the redness of his face.

“Okay! We got those, now please look at each other, gazes distant, glazed over looking. We want some more personal shots and then we can wrap it up with one other!”

Sylvain could die. He had never felt more trapped and cornered than this moment. _Sensual shots for fucking what? I’ve never done this…_ but he realized he had shot some rather up close and personal shots with other models, men, women, beach shots, fake dates. 

This was simply the first time he had felt an attraction to the model he was with, the first time his heart threatened him with feelings.

He shifted his head to look into Caspar’s eyes. 

That calm cerulean, those gentle features, that disarming smile that bore so deeply into his soul- as though Caspar was looking through him to his innermost _filthy_ thoughts. Sylvain felt heat in his face, as he gazed into Caspar’s eyes, trained only on him.

He couldn’t even think of Caspar’s body, perfectly chiseled and hot underneath his touch, he couldn’t imagine his hidden parts always obscured by clothing. There was only one thing: just his face. Just those eyes. Just those lips that Sylvain could only imagine kissing.

Caspar stared at him, eyes locked. 

Sylvain’s heart skipped a beat.

Caspar blinked but didn’t move.

Sylvain felt like dying.

The cameras flashed. 

“Done!” The director cried. “We’ve got everything we needed boys! You are free to go now.”

_Two poses. Just two barely different poses. We could have done this yesterday, what the fuck._

Caspar slowly picked himself up from Sylvain’s chest and stretched out. 

Fuck, if watching a beautiful man stretch wasn’t one of Sylvain’s favorite things. Fuck, if the way Caspar’s muscles contracted and the way he yawned didn’t grab Sylvain by the heartstrings and the dick both. 

Fuck- if he didn’t crave Caspar Bergliez: if he didn’t want to kiss his lips and talk to him, know him, feel his body and lose himself in that embrace. 

And he had only known the guy for a week.

Sylvain never fell like this, so hard, so fast. He never let it happen, and yet here he was, craving his attention and his time. 

“Well. I don’t actually have any other appointments today, or tomorrow in fact.” Caspar half yawned, half said. “Would you like to… go out with me tonight?”

Now Sylvain really wanted to die.

 _No._ “Yeah, I would love to.” _Idiot. Stupid. Fucking moron._

“Awesome! Where do you wanna go?” Caspar grinned, wide eyes sparkling in the most disgustingly endearing way.

 _Back out, you have a shot or something._ “I know a club we could go to; it’s not usually too busy and the staff knows me well.” _Why are you saying yes? Why are you saying yes?_

“Sounds great! It’s been a while since I just got to dance and let loose.” Caspar laughed in such a way that was boisterous, but melodic. It didn’t make sense. Sylvain loved it.

“Cool.” He said much more nonchalantly than he was thinking. _COOL???_ His mind screamed and echoed. “I’ll come pick you up at eleven.” _IDIOT._

“I can’t wait! I’ll text you my address soon.” Caspar smiled and too harshly slapped Sylvain’s back. “Whoops. Sorry there.”

“You’re cool, no worries.” But all Sylvain could imagine was that strength being put to other uses, dirty uses, like across his ass...while Caspar is shoved deep insid- Sylvain bit his lip until he tasted iron and watched as Caspar Bergliez walked off to the dressing rooms. 

He couldn’t help but stare at his ass, his back muscles, the easy way he carried himself.

_I’m so royally fucked._

Sylvain walked off to his dressing room, and was late to his car. 


	3. A Perfectly Normal Hang Out (Oh, he's Fucked.)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a simple hangout. Just bros being bros. Just models, being out and about and having a good time.   
> ...  
> ...  
> Except that isn't how Caspar sees it.  
> And Sylvain so easily breaks his rules when Caspar is around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is the chapter where Gladdybug's WONDERFUL art takes place, which I have yet again linked [ Here!](https://twitter.com/gladdybug/status/1300496323851038721?s=20)  
> This is as far as I have written so far, more chapters will be uploaded as the year progresses!

Fate- that cruel mistress- that cold and calculating force in the universe. She was actually rather kind to Sylvain. He was an adonis- blessed with genes that made his skin clear and his hair soft and his height just about the right size to be tall but not too tall, accessible. She had adorned him with luxury and money, fame and prestige- and yes, he had worked for it, but she certainly helped.

Still. Sylvain found himself cursing her. How dare she drop Caspar Von Bergliez in front of his path to stumble over? How dare she make him such a beautiful man that Sylvain could not help but fall hopelessly for? How dare he be so sweet and gentle, kind and considerate. How dare his hair be that electric blue and his muscles be the perfect level of defined and attractive without being extra and overboard? 

It had to be a clever set up. Fate had set him up to fall like Eve for the apple, like an angel from heaven, like a dragon into madness.

There he was- Caspar Von Bergleiz. 

There he was- Sylvain’s single vice.  _ Well.  _ Not his  _ single  _ vice, but his most pressing one to be sure. Sylvain’s preference for alcohol and the occasional vape were nothing compared to the pure desire that flared within him when Caspar was nearby.

“You okay there? You’ve been walking slowly.” Caspar slowed to a stop in front of him and turned back. 

Sylvain quickly raised his gaze. He had most certainly not been looking at Caspar’s ass. Surely not. Indeed. 

_ Idiot. Idiot.  _ Yet still, he couldn’t help but imagine reaching out and grasping him.  _ Idiot.  _

The frontal view did nothing to quell the flames inside.

Caspar’s fashion sense was something that Sylvain would never be able to replicate, never be able to pull off. He wasn’t boyish enough, didn’t have the right personality.

The black band tee that Caspar wore had been cut up and was missing its sleeves, as well as nearly all the cloth from his sides. From a side profile, his washboard abs and the pink bud of his nipple was on full display and if Sylvain looked closer, and he most  _ certainly did:  _ he could just make out the glint of silver,a piercing that he immediately wanted to play with and kiss. He wore purposefully distressed black skinny jeans with holes in the knees that were frayed in his right ass pocket and his left thigh. He had all his piercings in. The earcuffs that were so incredibly hot, that Sylvain wanted to nibble on, were in tonight and so was the ring that wrapped around his bottom lip. Everything, everything about his appearance seemed to be finely tailored to specifically make Sylvain die just a bit on the inside. To top it off, he was wearing his signature white converse, the only shoe he ever wore if able.

Caspar was one of the only people who made Sylvain feel plain. Everything about Caspar’s outfit screamed confidence, surety. Yet, he was so damn humble, so kind to everyone he met. 

Honestly, it didn’t even seem like he was flaunting it. Caspar seemed to have just thrown an outfit together and hopped out the door.

Sylvain felt understyled. His simple outfit was effective enough, brown khakis rolled up to show off his ankles, a plain white tee with a comfortable and stylish cloth cardigan, striped in black and red. His simple white tennis shoes were perfect to move around in. 

Gods if he didn’t feel plain next to Caspar though.

“Uh? Sylvain?” Caspar waved his hand in front of Sylvain’s face. “Earth to Vain, you in there?”

“Sorry. I was just getting lost in your looks.” Sylvain tilted his head and winked.  _ WHY WOULD YOU ADMIT THAT? EVEN IF IT WAS A JOKE? _

Caspar’s eyes widened and he laughed. He laughed that intoxicatingly beautiful laugh, full of joy. “Well, I can’t say I never got lost in yours... so I feel pretty honored honestly.” He grinned wide, eyes sparkling underneath the bright neon lights of the club they were about to enter.

Sylvain felt his heart contract and threaten to explode inside his chest. 

“Come on!” Caspar grabbed his hand and turned to drag him inside the club. Sylvain’s already oozing brain now leaked out his ears as Caspar clenched his hand and dragged him up to the door. The bouncers knew him well and were swift to let him and his “plus one” in without any issue. 

Inside the music was blaring and lights danced across the floor spun by the disco ball hanging far overhead. The steady beat and thrum bounced around in Sylvain’s head as Caspar dragged them across the room and towards a table. Sylvain could already feel the beat in his bones, feel his ears adjusting to the noise, feel his body loosening up. 

“What do you wanna drink?” Caspar practically yelled. Even then, Sylvain was mostly reading his lips instead of hearing his voice.

_ Nothing hard, nothing too hard, keep it cool Sylvain.  _ “I’ll have a Manhattan.”  _ IDIOT. That’s way too strong.  _

But it was a comfort drink, and Sylvain needed some confidence if he was going to survive the night with Caspar by his side.

“Got it! I’ll be back soon then!” He grinned and briskly walked off to the bar. 

Once again, Sylvain found his eyes trained on the perky sway of Caspar’s ass, so prominent and squeezable in those skinny jeans. He found himself staring at Caspar’s arms, completely free of covering, muscled and strong, easily able to lift him up no doubt. He looked at the little earcuff, wondering what it would be like to bite him, what sounds he would make.

Sylvain slumped forward and bonked him head on the table below. He bonked too hard. His forehead hurt. But he felt he deserved it.

He had all but given up on relationships after so many failed. But here he was, staring after Caspar, wondering if maybe, just maybe, he could try dating again. Perhaps there was something more he could have than just the physical, though gods knew that was mostly on his mind when he stared after Caspar. 

He sighed to himself. He sighed like a lovestruck teen. He sighed with so much more hope than he had in years, through so many failed relationships and ugly breakups.  _ Asshole. Vain. Jerk. Bastard.  _ Usually that was how his relationships ended, and he couldn’t even say he didn’t deserve it. Whoever he was with, whatever the circumstance, he always fucked it up.

_ Why am I even thinking of this? _ Caspar stood at the bar, still within sight, though the thrum and flow of people sometimes obscured Sylvain’s view, and his musings.  _ It’s not even a date. _ He groaned and laid his head in his arms, staring down at the table, sealing off the lights from his vision.

_ It’s not even a date. _

“Yo. You okay there?” 

Sylvain looked up and found Caspar holding two drinks and looking slightly worried.

“Perfectly fine, just getting the light out of my eyes for a moment,” Sylvain lied.  _ Perfectly unbalanced thinking of you.  _ “How much do I owe you for the drink?” 

Caspar smiled and placed the Manhattan in front of Sylvain. “Just some dances! You don’t have to pay me back.” Caspar took a seat across from him and took a swig of his drink from the red and white curled straw.

“Nonsense, these things are expensive here. I can-”

“Nah, don’t! Enjoy yourself, it’s on me.” Caspar held his drink up over the table.

Sylvain sat upright and took hold of his own cocktail. “What are we toasting to?”

“I don’t know! To our shoot? To fun? To us maybe!”

Sylvain thought for a moment. “To underwear.”

Caspar burst into laughter- raucous and happy. “To underwear! Thank you for bringing us together!” Caspar clanked their drinks and took a hefty swig of his drink. 

Sylvain brought the glass to his own lips.  _ Gentle.  _ And he gulped down more than just a little of his cocktail.  _ WHY?  _ But he ignored his own mind. He ignored that part of himself yelling to be restrained, to stay calm and collected. 

The music blared around him. The lights flashed over the club and glinted over Caspar’s piercings, highlighted the electric blue of his hair. His muscled arms and the exposed sides of his torso were so beautiful, Sylvain found himself drinking more the more he looked.

“So. Number two after only two years of modelling? Impressive- you coming for my spot?”  _ Don’t talk about this. _

Caspar grinned. “Not really. I never much cared for tabloids and ranks. I’m content to just model- have a good time, meet people, do what I like.” He took a sip of his long island iced tea and swallowed with a content gulp. “Though- to be honest- they get it right every year. Caspar did that thing again. That cute goddamn thing: he rubbed the back of his neck, and made that unsure but smiling face. “You are the best and sexiest, without a doubt.” Sylvain felt heat run up his spine and he quite nearly choked on the drink he was about to swallow.  _ I’m going to lose it. _

“You’ve always been my favorite model! So when my manager asked if I wanted to collab with you for that shoot- it was a pretty easy hell yeah. Underwear was new for me but… also I did model speedos that one time, so I figured it was similar.”

Sylvain was still hung up on that first thing Caspar had said. He didn’t even hear what came next.  _ He thinks I'm the best, the sexiest. He thinks I’m sexy. He does. Him.  _

“Still, I was pretty nervous to work with you, you’re the best at what you do.”

“I disagree.”  _ Shut up.  _ “I think I’ll very soon be outshined by you.”  _ SHUT UP.  _ “I… can’t help but look forward to it. I’ve never seen someone jump into their work so happily, gleefully. You’re… amazing Caspar.” 

Caspar rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, red crawled up his face. The blue of his hair contrasted so sharply with the red of his face. 

“You’re making me blush.” He took a swig of his drink and looked away, as though embarrassed.

“It’s true though,” Sylvain reiterated, spurred on by the fire in his veins and the lack of inhibition. “I have all your magazines and shots. I love your work. It’s inspiring. It makes me remember why I started this.”  _ I like you. I crave you, your touch… your affection. I want to know everything about you.  _

Caspar finished his drink with flames running over his face. He looked so beautiful, red, eyes darting all over. The swoop of his hair was in his eyes. One could mistake his blush for a sunburn, the type that was hilariously cute and deserving of hundreds of kisses.  _ It’s just the booze. _

“I have all your shots too. You’ve always been my favorite.” 

Sylvain found himself thanking the goddess for not the first time this week that he was a redhead. Perhaps the heavy saturation of his hair would mask the blush of his face, though he doubted it. His heart pounded in his head, louder than the music around them. He drank.

“I… thanks.”  _ Real smooth.  _ Sylvain rubbed over his face, gently massaging his temple, a nervous habit, a terrible habit that he always worried would coat his face with hand oil and cause a breakout. “Wanna dance?” he asked after taking one final swig that burned all the way down his throat.

“Yeah I do. Let’s go!” Caspar shot out of his seat, stumbled a bit, but quickly righted himself before reaching out and grabbing Sylvain’s hand. 

Sylvain, too lost in Caspar’s looks: in the light of the dance floor catching in his hair, illuminating his bright white shoes, allowed himself to be dragged off. 

~~~~~

_ Sylvain’s number one rule of clubbing: Don’t get drunk.  _

Yet, as he felt the courage and the confidence beating around his veins in tune with the music, he realized he had fucked up. He was slobberknockered. His limbs felt numb and his head was pleasantly spinning as he jerked his body vaguely to the beat of the music next to Caspar. 

He had no idea how he was dancing, he had no mental faculties at all. Caspar was there, dancing, gentle beads of sweat jumping off his forehead and whipped around by his long hair. His distressed tee barely covered his chest with so much kinetic movement coursing through his body and Sylvain swore he saw it tearing more down the sides, revealing yet more muscle underneath, making his throat dry and his mind hard even if his dick wasn’t.  _ Yet. _

Caspar pulled in closer as the music changed to something a bit more sensual, something that encouraged closeness. “You’re too far.” he whispered into Sylvain’s ear as he pulled in close and took hold of Sylvain’s waist. “Dance with me.” 

His eyes bore into Sylvain’s soul, as though seeing right through him. 

Everyone in the club disappeared around him and there was only the thrum of the music and Caspar’s steady arm around his waist, and the other holding him by the belt loop of his pants. 

Caspar leaned in up close and Sylvain felt himself slinking lower to face him. Their noses were nearly touching. Sylvain could smell the booze on his heated breath. 

Sylvain lost himself in those eyes. He reached around and grabbed Caspar by the ass, plump, squeezable, everything he wanted to touch. He reached around and held onto his neck as they started to undulate, slowly pressing backwards. 

_ Sylvain’s number two rule of clubbing: neither be handsy nor allow anyone else to be handsy with him. _

But as Caspar’s arm slowly reached up, under his shirt, and Caspar’s bare hand touched his side, Sylvain ground up against him, breathing out a sigh. Sylvain squeezed, holding Caspar’s ass for some kind of desperate leverage. They danced, unlike anything Sylvain had ever done. His back was hurting from bending over, his heart was beating in his head as he undulated to the music, entranced by Caspar holding him so close. He grinned wildly.

Sylvain’s back touched solid stone. Caspar had him pinned against the wall. 

“C-Casspar?” he whispered, lost in the look on Caspar’s face. 

Caspar leaned into Sylvain’s neck.

Sylvain yelped when Caspar licked his sensitive skin and placed a gentle kiss there. He was so gentle, leaving such a ghostly touch as he nudged his nose against the skin. Sylvain could feel his breath running down his neck, hypercharged with heat. 

“Caspar…” Sylvain groaned.

Caspar lifted his head in a daze and their eyes locked. Their bodies gently swayed even though the song had changed to something far more upbeat. Sylvain could grind up against him if he wanted, he knew if he did he would be instantly hard.

Sylvain took a more subtle approach and closed his eyes before smashing their lips together. It was electric, it was hot. Caspar opened up immediately to let him in and Sylvain dove eagerly to chase that sweet taste. He could barely breathe, but it didn’t matter. Caspar was holding him up against the wall, else Sylvain would surely have fallen to the filthy ground. 

He broke away for air but Caspar gave chase and gently nibbled on Sylvain’s lower lip while rubbing up his side, fingers trailing over the edges of his muscles, making his breath catch and his body thrum with energy.

“So much for just a hangout.” Sylvain whispered.

Caspar gently withdrew from his lips. “Hangout? I thought…”

Caspar scrunched his eyebrows, confused. “I thought this was a date…”

Sylvain tilted his head to the side, alcohol ridden mind buzzing in confusion and arousal. “You did? I thought it was just... “ Sylvain froze, seeing apprehension in Caspar’s eyes, he looked ready to pull away.  _ Fucking dumbass.  _ “I’m glad. I’m glad it’s not just a hangout. Don’t… please don’t stop.” And his mind was clear. His inner voice was silent, perhaps even approving when Sylvain broke into a giant grin and pulled Caspar in closer so that their chests were touching and he could feel Caspar’s lips grazing his cheek. 

They moved gently to the music, swaying up against the wall. But the beat had no bearing on their movement. The onlookers were nothing. And Sylvain felt himself falling, falling ever so hard as Caspar peppered his face in gentle kisses.

His heart grew, expanded in his chest, his hand traced over the plumpness of Caspar’s ass and stroked down his sturdy back as Caspar moved to intercept his lips again. 

Warmth. So much warmth. It permeated his body.

Caspar stepped up closer and his knee ground against Sylvain’s crotch, and Sylvain felt himself melting against Caspar’s touch and hardening in his pants.

“Shit.” He whispered between kisses. 

Caspar seemed to notice his mistake. “Crap… sorry.” Caspar gently pulled his knee away.

“Caspar… Please get me out of here. If… if that’s all right.”

Caspar’s eyes widened and his smile grew as he leaned in and kissed Sylvain’s sweaty forehead. “Let’s go.”

If eyes watched them leaving, Sylvain did not notice. If paparazzi saw them kissing and holding each other against the wall, Sylvain wouldn’t know until the morning. 

That was a problem for morning Sylvain.

As they climbed into a rideshare together, all on Sylvain’s mind was stripping Caspar of his underwear- all he had imagined the entire week of shooting together. He could imagine slipping his fingers underneath that elastic band… sliding it down his thighs and finally… finally unwrapping what was underneath.

Sylvain could only imagine what he would look like, only how he would sound when naked and undulating hips without a beat. 

_ Sylvain’s number three rule of clubbing: Never. Ever. Go home with anyone. _

~~~~~

Sylvain’s eyes gently creaked open.

Despite his drunken state last night… somehow brought upon him by the gods of alcohol by a single Manhattan, his head was lacking any sort of pounding. 

He felt… pretty damn amazing in fact. 

He rolled over- and found that his phone was not on his nightstand.

Actually… that wasn’t his nightstand.

As his eyes came into clearer focus he realized that he was in fact, not in his own apartment.

This apartment was more decorated, the bed far softer than his own mattress, the scent entirely not his own. 

It took him a moment to register that smell… the smell of flowers, deodorant.  _ Caspar’s smell. _

Sylvain could never figure out why Caspar smelled of flowers… Now, as he looked around the room and saw vases and planters everywhere, he understood. 

Caspar had a green thumb to go with his blue hair. Nature was all around his apartment showering the room with color.

Sylvain fell back into the pillow.

_ Oh shit. _

His mind began to swirl to all the inevitable fears:  _ were we seen? Who knows? How do I lie about it? _

He began to sit up and immediately was met with the most pleasant pain. 

His legs were jelly, his back was hurting, and deep inside he was feeling a burn, such a sweet and wonderful burn.

_ Oh gods. _

As he took survey of himself, he noticed bite marks and kisses riddled all over his body. Never would he allow a quick lay to do that to him, never. His body had to remain blemish free, perfect.

His head was yelling at him too loudly to hear the patter of bare feet on the hardwood outside the door and he was left wholly unprepared for Caspar, who walked into the room.

“Oh. Morning Sylvain!” Caspar beamed. 

He was fresh out of the shower and was covered in bruises. His shoulders were darkened with bite and love marks, his right pec had a ring of teeth right around the nipple. His neck was covered in hickeys and it looked like his lip was swollen.

His hair was dripping. He was stark naked save for a towel that was guarding his waist from view. 

Even now, panicking as he was, Sylvain wanted to tear that towel away and see. 

His mind began to clear as Caspar rounded the bed and took a seat beside him.

“You okay there? You look a little… dazed.”

Caspar had  _ definitely _ taken more of a love beating than Sylvain had. 

Distantly, Sylvain realized he must have made all those marks, He was the one who brought so many blemishes to Caspar’s skin. Sylvain had made off easy in comparison to how severely marked Caspar’s body was. 

“Hey?” Caspar stood up, just a bit too fast.

His towel slipped from his hand as he reached out to cup Sylvain’s face. 

“You okay?”

Sylvain stared.

He stared at the dangling object between Caspar’s beautiful thighs; thighs also marked up with bites and love.

“Oh. Fuck.”

And all that they had done the night before came back to him in a rush.

And Sylvain was so fucked.


End file.
